Big Girls & Bad Boys: 8 Scorching Hot BBW Alpha Male Romance Novellas Box Set

by D. H. Cameron

  I wrapped my body around his and held him as he stroked my hair. Suddenly, the badass, dominant biker held me tenderly. Dutch lay on top of me, our hot, sweaty bodies heaving as we fought to catch our breath. I’d never been so satisfied or felt as sexy as I did right then. Dutch had taken me along for a ride and what a ride it was. He nuzzled my neck as I basked in his attention.

  “That was fantastic, daddy,” I said. Dutch lifted his head and looked into my eyes.

  “That’s all you had to do. You just had to give yourself to me. As long as you let me have you like I want, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” Dutch told me. I liked that, but I needed something from him.

  “Do you really think I’m sexy?” I asked. Dutch raised an eyebrow.

  “Shauna, don’t get me wrong, your body is fantastic. I love your curves. But that’s not why you’re sexy. You’re sexy inside. I saw it that first night. I told you I like a challenge. When I saw you sitting there in that bar I knew you didn’t belong there. I saw a light inside you that none of those other girls had and I was right. Yeah, I really think you’re sexy, inside and out, and you proved it tonight,” he told me.

  That’s all I needed to hear. I knew he meant every word. I don’t think Dutch was capable of holding back his thoughts and opinions. He might have been a man of few words but when he spoke, his words were genuine and honest. I hugged Dutch to me, “Thank you.”

  “Just telling you the way it is,” he said.

  >>O<<

  That next morning after Dutch left, I met Becky at the coffeehouse and told her everything. I told her about riding behind Dutch, about his friends at the seedy bar, about the body shots, about kissing Sheila but when I told her about the sex with Dutch, I took my time and didn’t leave out a single detail. I did it as much to shock her as to measure her. I wanted to know how she’d react. I wanted to know if she was a true friend or not.

  “That’s just...disgusting,” Becky said.

  “What part?” I asked.

  “All of it. Letting all those people touch you, kissing that woman...,” she began to say and I’d heard enough.

  “Wait a minute. What happened to all your tolerance? I thought you were all for gay rights, but I kiss a woman and it’s disgusting?” I challenged her. Becky seemed to be at a loss for words. It seemed a little logic and reason was too much for her. I wasn’t a lesbian and Sheila and I were just playing around for the guy’s benefit, but that didn’t matter.

  Becky, and a lot of my friends, wore their supposed tolerance on their sleeves. They talked as if they were somehow more tolerant, more compassionate and more accepting than the masses. However, their actions proved just the opposite time and time again. They said one thing because it made them feel good, but did another. I knew what was coming next and I was dead on.

  “Well, you’re not a lesbian,” Becky said. There it was. The exception that made what she said the right thing. I fit in so Becky and those like her accepted me. I was like them so I was OK. However, as soon as I made choices Becky didn’t agree with or understand, she started looking down her nose at me. However, Dutch and his friends were real. They weren’t pretending to be anything they weren’t just to fit in. One Dutch was worth a hundred of the metrosexual so called men I used to date. One Sheila was worth a hundred friends like Becky.

  “So what does that matter?” I asked. Again, Becky was speechless for a moment. Then she attacked. I should have seen it coming. Not only was I questioning her ideals, but she couldn’t argue with my logic.

  “I’m so disappointed in you. I thought you were better than that. Frankly, I’m disgusted. Just because you’re overweight doesn’t mean you have to sink to those people’s level,” Becky said.

  “Is that what you think about me?” I asked giving her one last chance to convince me I had grossly misunderstood her.

  “What that you’re a loser or that you’re fat?” Becky asked. I was hoping for at least a halfhearted explanation but I guess I had offended Becky’s sensibilities and now I was beneath her and, therefore, no longer worthy of her respect.

  “Wow!” was all I could say. Sure, I wasn’t perfect but neither was Becky. I used to want to look like her. I held myself up to her and never felt like I measured up. Dutch was right. It wasn’t what I looked like that mattered. It was what I was inside that defined me. Becky might have been a beautiful girl on the outside but on the inside, she was ugly. Suddenly, I felt so much prettier than Becky.

  “Go be with your biker buddies. Go let that guy all but rape you. Go demean yourself with that dyke. I don’t know who you are anymore and I don’t want to,” Becky said only confirming my thoughts.

  “Well, I guess that makes two of us. I’m disappointed too. You’re just an elitist. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s so unbecoming,” I said as I got up, grabbed my purse and prepared to leave the coffeehouse.

  “I am better. I’m better than that scuzzy biker of yours and if you want to be with a guy like that, I’m better than you are. Have fun biker girl,” Becky said dismissively. I just shook my head and walked away. How could I have been so blind? When I made choices she agreed with, Becky was my best friend but as soon as I took a different direction, she turned on me. I looked back as I walked past the front windows. That place was full of people like her. Whether they were elitist bitches like Becky or just pretending to be to fit in and feel good about themselves didn’t matter.

  I suddenly felt liberated. I called Dutch and asked him if he wanted to go for a ride. He did. He always did. I went home, changed into jeans and tight tank top and slipped into a pair of spike-heeled boots that weren’t intended for riding on the back of a motorcycle, but looked the part all the same. Dutch showed up and we walked out to his bike. I put on my helmet, straddled the bike and slipped my arms around Dutch. “C’mon, daddy. Let’s of have some fun,” I whispered in his ear.

  Dutch looked over his shoulder and smiled. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have too. He stomped on the starter, popped the bike into gear and off we roared. I felt the wind in my face, the freedom, and held Dutch even tighter. I barely knew this man or what he was about, but I meant to find out. For now, however, I didn’t care. It felt good and I went with it. That’s all that really mattered.

  >>O<<

  If you’d like to continue Dutch and Shauna’s story, check out the sequels below:

  Softail Curves II

  (www.amazon.com/dp/B00BN018LQ)

  Softail Curves III

  (www.amazon.com/dp/B00CB5Y832)

  >>O<<

  Back to the Beginning

  Santa Cruz Curves

  I’d never seen the ocean until I stepped onto the sand beyond the boardwalk. It was so big. I stared for a while before I walked down to the surf, my camera bag slug over my shoulder. I said I wanted a change, wanted to get out of the city but I wondered if this was too much. I’d driven a couple of thousand miles from Chicago to Santa Cruz, California but now that I was here, it seemed farther than that. I wasn’t just the only black girl on the beach at the moment, I was the only big girl too.

  I finally wandered down here after a month of living in my new town. I usually avoided places that required swimsuits and even now, I was in denim shorts and a tank top. The sun was low and the light was perfect. I found a spot off by myself, pulled my camera out and began shooting the waves, the birds and the boardwalk behind me. After a while, I noticed the young surfers and put a zoom lens on my camera body. I got some great shots as they rode the waves.

  Surfing was as foreign to me as anything could be. I knew what it was but in the Midwest, it was something other people in other places did. I marveled at the way they carved the water, the way they managed to stay on their surfboards even when it seemed impossible. I also noticed that most of them were awfully good-looking. They were all tanned, fit and youthful, not my type I suppose but nice to look at anyway.

  I shot photos until the sun went down and the light just wasn�
��t right anymore. I put my camera away and started walking back up the beach towards the boardwalk. I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait long for the bus to take me back to my little one bedroom apartment. I’d sold my car when I got out to California, partly because I needed the money and partly to keep me from running back home. As it turns out, I wouldn’t have to wait at all for the bus.

  “Hey!” I heard from behind me but I ignored it. I really didn’t know anybody here so I figured the shout was for someone else. “Hey, girl with the camera,” the voice came again, a young man’s voice with that peculiar California inflection I’d heard in too many movies. I turned around this time and found a young guy, perfect body, wet dark hair matted to his head and a surfboard under his arm.

  “Me?” I asked as he jogged up.

  “Yeah. Were you taking pictures of me?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I’ll delete them if you want,” I said. Maybe it wasn’t allowed or maybe he thought I was going to sell them without his permission. I mean, that’s what I did for a living. At least that’s what I tried to do.

  “No, no. I was wondering if I could see them,” he said.

  “Oh, sure,” I replied and began to dig my camera out.

  “Maybe over dinner?” he asked and I looked up at him not sure how to respond. I just stared at him wondering why he was asking me to dinner. I knew it couldn’t be because he found me attractive but that’s what it sounded like. “Uh, did you hear me? You want to eat food?” he asked again after a few moments as I mulled it over in my mind.

  “Um...I...I guess,” I replied.

  “Sweet. I’m Cody. You like tacos? I’m buying if you show me the pictures you took,” he said and held out his hand. He was still wet from being in the surf but I shook his hand anyway.

  “I’m Nina. You mean like Taco Bell?” I asked. Cody just laughed.

  “No, not Taco Bell. You got a car?” he asked. I hoped he wasn’t looking for a ride or we’d both be taking the bus.

  “No, I rode the bus down here,” I told him.

  “I’ll give you a lift then,” he said and began to walk towards the boardwalk. I watched for a moment, and then hurried after him. We walked in silence through the boardwalk, which was beautifully lit now, and out to the parking lot beyond. We walked past the rows of cars to the far end where a beat up old Volkswagen bus waited. It was green, or used to be, and covered in surface rust and dents.

  “She’s cherry inside and the engine is new,” Cody said once he saw the look on my face.

  “It’s nice,” I lied but he just laughed.

  “No it’s not, but thanks anyway,” he replied. I followed him around the back. He opened the hatch and after wiping down his surfboard, he tossed it in on top of the mattress that lay in the back where I expected to see seats. Then he toweled himself off and retrieved some clothes. I couldn’t help but watch as he did so. Damn, he was fine and I felt an unfamiliar tingle between my thighs. It had been weeks since I’d even looked at a guy. Cody slipped on a t-shirt, a flat-billed cap and wedged his feet into a worn pair of flip-flops.

  He closed up the back of the bus and led me around the side. He held the door while I climbed inside, closed it and went around to the driver’s side. He was right, the inside was nice, new upholstery, a fancy stereo and even the mattress had bedding complete with pillows. Cody joined me and fired up the van. It started right up and purred like a...well, it purred like a lawnmower. It was supposed to sound like that I guess.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” Cody asked as we pulled out of the parking spot and towards wherever he was taking me.

  “Not by a long way,” I replied and then asked, “Is it that apparent?”

  “Yeah. You don’t sound right and you look like a deer caught in the headlights,” he told me. I guess he meant my accent. I didn’t think I had one, but half the people I talked to asked where I was from. Funny, I thought they all had accents.

  “I moved here from Chicago about a month ago,” I told Cody. He looked at me sideways.

  “Hell, that’s a big change. Why would you do something like that?” he inquired.

  “I just needed to get away,” I answered cryptically. I didn’t want to talk about what happened, especially with a complete stranger. I hoped that was all in the past.

  “Well, you obviously haven’t had real tacos so let me show you a little taste of Cali,” Cody said. We drove for about five minutes before he pulled up to a small shack with a big sign that read, “Taqueria Cruz.” He pulled up to the drive-thru window and ordered in Spanish. A couple of minutes later, the girl in the window handed him a white paper bag and two sodas. Not exactly what I was expecting when he asked me to dinner.

  “It smells good,” I offered as he handed me one soda and the bag.

  “Wait till you taste them,” he said. We drove for a few minutes and then pulled into the parking lot of a marina. It was actually quite a nice spot. He backed up to the water and got out. I followed Cody’s lead as he popped open the back of his bus, strapped his surfboard out of the way and we ended up sitting on the mattress looking out over the boats bobbing in the water.

  “This is nice,” I said. I was actually really impressed. This was way better than the inside of some chain restaurant or whatever I was expecting. Cody passed out the little foil packages and then opened one of his. He squirted the lime slice he found inside onto the little taco and I followed suit. I folded the tortilla just as Cody did and took a bite. Oh, wow!

  “This is fantastic,” I said with my mouth still full. His smiled at me.

  “Taco Bell...really?” was all he said and I couldn’t help but giggle. I ate the other three tacos in short order and then the cinnamon and sugar covered stick he called a churro. It was good too. We sat and sipped our sodas for a while before Cody asked,” So you going to show me the pictures?”

  “Oh yeah, I left my bag up front,” I said.

  “I got it,” Cody told me and crawled toward the front of the bus giving me a nice shot of his butt. Damn, he was the whole package, tall and athletic with a nice butt and a sexy smile. I’d only really known a few white guys back home. I was raised in a lower middle class neighborhood but still my entire high school was black and the community college I attended was almost exclusively black too. In fact, all my friends and most of my co-workers were too. I’d never really thought about white guys because I didn’t really know any.

  However, I couldn’t deny Cody was sexy. He was different from all the guys I knew, though I didn’t know that many. He was so relaxed and laidback. Most of the guys I knew were pretty intense. Maybe it was just the lifestyle. Chicago was a tough town and it bred tough guys that all had a hard edge. Sometimes too hard. Here in California, at least in Santa Cruz, it was different. Everyone was like Cody to one extent or another, easygoing and friendly. Compared to the guys I knew back home, Cody seemed more roguish than straight out badass. He might be trouble but not the bad kind.

  “Here you go,” he said as he handed me my camera bag. I pulled out my camera and then surprised Cody and pulled out a small LCD screen and plugged it in. I took pictures to make money and I’d built up quite a collection of gear. This larger screen beat the heck out of looking at photos on the small screen on the back of the camera.

  “Whoa, that’s awesome,” he said. A moment later, I was showing him the pictures I’d taken. Not all of them were of him but there were enough. He leaned close to get a better view and I could smell the saltwater on him. His shoulder touched mine and I couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to be naked with him. I know it was foolish. He’d never find a girl like me, a chubby black girl, attractive. Still, the fantasy was nice.

  “I like this one a lot. I got you just as you, whatever you call it, turned at the top of the wave,” I said.

  “It’s carving. It’s a bitchin’ photo,” he said.

  “Huh?” I asked understanding only about half of what he just said.

  “Carving is what
it’s called when you ride up and down the face like that and turn,” he said.

  “Oh, and bitching?” I wondered.

  “Not bitching, bitchin’,” he corrected me. “That means it’s cool,” he said. I nodded and looked at Cody. He looked at me with his brown eyes and I felt myself get warm. He flashed me his smile and warm went to hot.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said.

  “You play beach bunny a lot?” he asked. I screwed my face up wondering what he meant. “Do you like watching surfers,” he clarified.

  “I’ve never done it before but yeah, it was fun,” I said.

  “Just fun? It’s more than that isn’t it?” he asked and I knew what he meant. He was closer than before, his face just inches from mine.

  “Uh...,” was all I said. He smiled again.

  “You’re really pretty, Nina. You want to have some fun?” he asked and I pulled away. I just stared at Cody for a moment and then I laughed uncomfortably.

  “Why are you saying that?” I asked him. I mean, this guy could probably get any number of thin blonde girls in string bikinis into his bus anytime he wanted.

  “Don’t give me that shit,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. It sounded like Cody was coming on to me but that couldn’t be right.

  “I don’t want to hear the B.S. you’re about to tell me. I’m fat, I’m not pretty, whatever. I say you’re bangin’,” he told me and caught me off guard. That’s exactly what I was thinking. I was big and I always questioned whether or not I was pretty. I know I was, everyone said so, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Every guy I’d been with seemed to tolerate my weight. Sure, the guys appreciated a nice round butt and big boobs but they wanted everything else thin and skinny.

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “I don’t say stuff I don’t mean,” he said as he began pulling my tank top up. I didn’t stop him and I’m not sure I wanted to.